The Thousand Hero Slayer
by Silvertide
Summary: In a story that takes place in between the 1st and 2nd Diablo games, a warrior and a necromancer work together to survive in a demon-infested cavern.
1. Awaiting Death's Half Smile

Author's Note: I own no rights to the "Diablo" video game franchise, anything in this story not from the games and their storylines are my creations. Please don't steal from this story without giving due credit or permission. And please don't sue me if you own the "Diablo" video game franchise, because I make no money from this story. Leave reviews if you like my story. Have fun.  
  
THE THOUSAND HERO SLAYER by Silvertide  
  
Chapter One: Awaiting Death's Half Smile  
  
Inside of a blood-stained cage dangling over a pile of human bones, I sit and begin to lose hope of escape. Trapped. Trapped I am in this infernal cage, waiting to be slaughtered by the things lurking around my torch-lit prison. As I squat in a cramped cage of cold metal bars, hanging from the ceiling of this damp cave, small man-like things scurry round below. Undoubtedly they are preparing whatever foul fate that awaits me. They captured me as I slumbered. It was dark. They were many. I awoke to small hands grabbing at me, small and sickly fingers that kept my blade just out of reach. As they relieved me of my weapons and armor, I saw they were shaped like men, only smaller. But men they were not. With their deformed body proportions and inhuman grunts, I realized these were more likely demons than men. Obviously I have not long to live.  
  
Barely visible in this dimly lit cave, bones, of those I presume came before me, lie under my cage. Bones cracked and covered in tooth marks, bones I wish not to look at any longer. With little else to do, I take my eyes away from them and I survey my surroundings once more. Torches, quietly cackling with flame, cast menacing shadows on the rocky cave walls. Monstrous groans and high-pitched snorts echo in the craggy corridors that lie beyond the dark shadows. My cage, with its filthy and unbending metal bars, hangs in the middle of a naturally formed chamber of stone and earth. I slouch in my metal crate facing the only exit in the room. Behind me, ghastly metal instruments covered with spiky protrusions and sharpened edges hang on a wall. I caught glimpse of them as they dragged me into this room through that man-sized opening which now lies in front of me. Since they put me in this cage, I have not glimpsed them a second time. Sometimes I hear loud scraping of metal behind me. But the memory of seeing that malicious wall keeps me from even turning around.  
  
Scrape. Grind. Squeak. Cackling laughter. The sharpening begins again. My hands cringe as I find them moving to cover my ears. I cannot stand the suspense. This time I dare turn around. In the dark shadows I see them. Two figures scarcely visible by their outlines, stand holding various implements. One holds a long shape the length of my leg, while the other grinds at the lengthy form with a variety of different tools. In between the painful sounds of creaking metal, I hear their fiendish, high-pitched laughter. The various sharpening implements have a faint alloyed gleam, they must be sharpening metal with metal. I do not want to look or listen, but I find myself unable to turn away from this awful hint of my fate. More of these things noisily stumble into the room, but I ignore them and simply sit while watching the two foul things stand in shadow. Scraping. Grinding. Laughing.  
  
My cage creaks open behind me, I spin around and see the door is open! I hasten to the opening, but halt as sharp spear points thrust toward my direction. A few steps away from freedom seem so far away once again. The sound of grinding metal pauses and is replaced by laughter. Nothing but laughter. Laughter from everywhere. I'm trapped, they not only know it, they enjoy it. Small stairs leading up to my cage creak as weapons momentarily withdraw. A large sack is brought up to my cage doorway. Heavy with a big lump, the bag is rolled slowly into my small prison. Less than a breath's time later, the doors shut once more and dark shapes creep away, while the awful sounds of scraping metal resumes. Like sad sack of moldy grain, the bag rests at my dingy doorsteps. Food. Something I have not seen since my imprisonment. Have they finally decided to feed me?  
  
I reach for the bag, but my hand jolts back when the large bulge under its folds begins to move. Coarse folds of fabric waver and fall away as the bag opens, a lean figure struggles out of the bag's opening. A man in black garb rises to his feet. He looks like a phantom. Frost white hair with a torch-lit yellow glow. Face pale like a blue cloud in the twilight hours. Shrouded in garments as dark as the shadow of a tomb at sunset. Thin fingers white as chalk. His stony-gray eyes turn to me, silently singing of somber sights I have never seen.  
  
"So they caught someone else too," he says with a half smile. The silent gray eyes of stone now tell me I have fooled myself. This is no specter before me. There is only a man. Certainly he is either a crazed man, or a sane one in denial of our doomed state, but a ghost he is certainly not.  
  
"It would appear so," I reply, trying to ignore the ceaseless noise of grinding behind us. A conversation with this fool is preferable to hearing monsters prepare our grisly fates. He wanders to the back of our cage.  
  
"What's this we have here? Are they getting ready for something? They are making quite a bit of noise."  
  
"Making ready for our deaths," I grimly reply.  
  
"They most likely are," he says with a slight smile, "But they should really be making ready for theirs."  
  
"Why would you say that? Have you a weapon hidden beneath all that black clothing?"  
  
I look up. He turns to me with dreary eyes gazing down. As he speaks a cold chill runs from my face to my toes, "Yes. I do," The man leans close to me, bending his mouth to my ear asking, "Have you seen it? It is thin, white-haired, pale as snow on a distant mountain top, and will kill these impish things in less than two breaths."  
  
"If you have no weapon, simply say so," I tell him, turning away from his gaze, "There is no need to give me such a cryptic reply."  
  
My cell-mate suddenly faces toward the pair of figures. With a smile, his thin arms rise up and a bright blue-white flash explodes before him. A long sharp shaft of bone spews from the sudden splash of light and flies at the impish creatures outside our cage. The two dark things split into four. Blood splatters on the stranger's feet. I stagger to mine as the white-haired one turns to our dingy prison door. Another summoned length of sharpened bone erupts from him, and the locked exit cracks open into shattered bits of metal.   
  
"After you," he says gesturing to the door, "You were here first."  
  
I am free. I scarcely believe it. My feet, believing before the rest of me does, carefully make way to the door. With a creak, they touch down on the small steps. Forgetting the small size of the door, my head bumps the top of the entryway. My white-haired savior chuckles as I emerge from the cage. Crack. Handfuls of tiny bone break under my feet. Crack. I stop and look down, finding the ground crowded with bone. Crack. Continuing on until nothing else cracks or creaks beneath me, I silently creep to the exit.   
  
"A thank you would be welcome." says the stranger behind me.  
  
"Apologies," I say as my head twists around to face him, "I must have left my manners in that cage."  
  
"You may want to wait for me, unless you have a weapon hidden beneath all those rags."  
  
I look down. Worn ragged boots. Coarse, dirty blue trousers. A red-brown tunic speckled with holes. No weapon. Against well armed monsters half my size, I would die a laughingly quick death. I look back at the four wet lumps behind the cage. In the low gleam of barely burning flame, I see hints of armor and weaponry on the grisly remains of the dead sentries. Even as corpses they are better equipped than I am. But not for long. I march back to the dark end of the cave and scrounge through the bloody mess. Many grim weapons, glistening with small spikes and ragged curves, are spread across the ground and on the cave wall. None appear made to fit in a human hand. Next to a dark shadow resembling half a set of legs, a long thin beam of reflected torch light lies on the ground. My hand stretches out to it.  
  
"I do not believe we have been formally introduced," says the dark-garbed stranger, "My name is Maldor Nalakai."  
  
I hold up a shiny long sword marred with half a crack just above its middle, as I introduce myself without turning to face the pale man. "Sigmund Dane. Pleased to make your acquaintance."  
  
"The pleasure is all mine," says Maldor with a graceful bow, "I am on a mission of great importance. If you are done here, I can escort you to safety before I continue with it."  
  
Escort me to safety? Who does this Maldor Nalakai think he is? This sorcerer's magic may be of use in this forsaken place, but I can escort myself. I slice the air with my new weapon, testing its weight and balance. Though flawed with a crack, it will be enough until I find something better. "Do you know the way out?" I say as I continue to search through dead monster pieces.  
  
"No, I was dragged here in a bag remember?"  
  
Surrounded by bits of scrap alloy, I find a crumpled garment with pieces of chain mail and iron plating stitched on. It may fit over my torso, while this set of rags is not much, it is better than nothing. I don the improvised armor as I turn to Maldor. "Have you any weapon beside your sorcery? More of these things are lurking about, if your magic runs out you may need my help to keep you alive."  
  
"I have a dagger hidden in my boot, I will be fine. You look like you need more help than I. Those rags will not offer much protection, I would not bother to even put them on."  
  
"Better than nothing." I say as I walk to the dim cavern exit. "Come. We are wasting time, I am ready to go."  
  
"Oh, so you are the leader now? Was not I the one who saved you just moments ago?"  
  
"Lead if you want to," I say as I gesture to the chamber exit, "It does not matter who leads, I just want out of here."  
  
"Good point." says Maldor as we stand before the way out.  
  
"What sort of sorcery did you use on that cage? I did not recognize it."  
  
"Death magic, the sorcery of necromancers."  
  
"Necromancery? I have never heard of it." I say as we step out into the dim.  
  
"Judging by your accent, you must be from Westmarch," says Maldor as we travel along a winding stony passage way barely lit by haphazardly hung torches.  
  
"Indeed I am."  
  
"My kind rarely travel to the western-"  
  
We stop. Footsteps and wretched cackling echoes behind us. Looking back, the light slowly grows brighter even as we stand still. The sounds grow louder. Then the sounds stop, and the light behind us stops glowing brighter. Moments later outraged cries echo through the narrow passage. The torch light hanging on the passage way around us begins to flicker and dim, while the far-off light in the passageway behind us glows brighter. Maldor pulls out his dagger and I hold up my sword with both hands as we hear many hurried footsteps growing louder. I see shadowy shapes creep up on the stony floor just as all light suddenly extinguishes. For a moment in this complete darkness, I wish I were in that infernal cage again. 


	2. Frowning At Luck's Laughter

THE THOUSAND HERO SLAYER by Silvertide

Chapter Two: Frowning At Luck's Laughter  
  
"Step behind me," whispers Maldor, "While I cast a spell."

In the gloomy din, monstrous gnarls and wicked war cries fill the air. In this total darkness, we cannot see the small legion of foes out for our blood, but we know they are ahead of us with weapons drawn. My companion begins to whisper an incantation. Before he can finish I see a flash of white-orange erupt in front of us.

"Get down!" I scream, as I tackle Maldor to the ground. A blazing white-orange streak passes through where he stood. As the bright ball of flame evaporates, I glimpse a wave of dark silhouettes coming our way.

"Rakanishu!" cry out the monsters. A blunt blow strikes my chest. Staggering back, I make a blind swing with my blade and a death cry rings out into the dark. My ragged armor keeps me from suffering more than a bruise, I cannot say the same for the unseen creature I just fell. My arm shivers as thin cold fingers grip my elbow.

"There you are!" says Maldor, "Now get out of my way, I have a spell ready."

With an explosion of eerie blue incandescence, a long shaft of bone runs through two of the vile things before shattering on the cave wall behind them. As the cold blue illumination fades I see several of the things scatter as a larger one wielding a tall staff lumbers toward us. I hear a wretched groan and another fireball flies our way. We manage to evade it, but this time it grazes Maldor's coat sleeve, setting it ablaze. The light of the fire reveals a line of the foul things advancing on us. He slides off his coat as they all come our way, attracted by the tiny flame. My sword hacks and slashes as quickly as my arm can swing it while my companion stomps out the fire on his garment.

"Stop! Leave the fire, I cannot see without it!" I shout out.

"But this is my favorite coat! It would be bad luck for me to lose it," replies Maldor.

"It would be bad luck to lose our lives!"

"You'll do fine without it, they're all coming from the same direction anyway. Just wait a little longer, and I'll have a spell ready to help you."

In a situation such as this, waiting is easier said than done. Though these beasts die fast, reinforcements are advancing faster. Dozens of them lie dead around me, yet they keep coming. After I slay a dozen or so more, the larger monster carrying a staff chants an incantation. Before another fireball is let loose upon us, I hurl a freshly killed creature at the spell caster. The taller one falls, Maldor finishes putting out the fire, and it is dark again. Crack. Ah! Something hits my knee. Thud. Another blow comes, knocking me to the ground. A sharp pain shoots up my leg. Instinctively, my other leg raises, kicking down an unseen foe.

"Where is that spell? I cannot hold them at bay any longer!" I scream.

An unseen hand pulls me up from behind and away from the swarm of small savages. The cavern lights up as yet another burst of flame flies our way. The momentary flash of fire reveals that only the larger creature and ten of its tiny troop remain standing. Suddenly I realize that Maldor is standing in the path of the fireball! I shout out to warn him, but it is of no avail. The blazing ball collides with him in a loud explosion, drowning out my late warning.

"Maldor! No!"

My sudden sorrow turns to surprise as I see Maldor still standing. Slowly, I realize that there is now light in this cave! Maldor's right arm drops, and a lit torch in his right hand reveals itself. I stagger to my feet and see a blood-soaked shield in his other hand. The remaining creatures look to each other puzzled, they are as surprised as I am by what transpired.

"Sigmund, are you still alive back there?"

"You used the shield to stop the fireball and had the torch in your other hand to catch the flame. Clever."

With the element of surprise still with us, I charge at the last of them. The larger one staggers away as I cut down its bewildered companions. It cowers away from me as I triumphantly march toward the foul thing with my blade held high ready to strike. Every swing and slice of my sword misses as it evades my blows with demonic speed. I break rhythm with a kick, it falls and my edge comes down. A messy death-moan echoes in the dark caverns.

"I recognize these demons now," says Maldor, surveying the scores of dead demons, "I believe they are called 'nanus improbus', but in these northern lands they are more commonly referred to as 'fallen ones'. I remember battling a gang of them once not too long ago."

"Fallen ones? I have heard stories of these devils razing entire villages in the dark of night. Strange. The tales always tell of blood-thirsty killers who take no prisoners."

"Yes. And the ones I had fought were more cowardly. They would run away and regroup every time one of them was killed. These fallen ones kept coming no matter how many we killed. And they had one of their shamans helping them out."

"Shamans? Are you speaking of the larger one who flung fire at us?"

"Yes, this is the first time I have ever seen one. Luckily for us, I found these on the floor when it sent that last fireball at us," says Maldor as he holds up the torch and shield.

My eyes search the floor for other such lucky finds. A worn cloak lies near the dead shaman's disheveled carcass. Stained with dirt and grime from the dusty floor, it rubs roughly against my fingers. The fabric is a bit coarse, but sturdier than the stitching on the armored rags I already wear. The sutures holding the chain mail on my rags loosened after the hard blow on my chest. I don it over my apparel, hoping for better protection.

"Sigmund, why are you putting that on? You don't know what the monsters have been doing with it."

"I could say the same about the torch and shield you found," I say as I look for more useful items. "Do you know anything else about these shamans?"

"They can resurrect their dead warriors. But the way these things kept coming at us, I don't think this one had the space to bring its friends back to life."

"Fortunately for us," I say without looking up.

"We should get moving. All that noise will bring others, I am sure there's a whole army of these demons scattered around these caverns."

"You must be blind. We have just slain a whole army, count the bodies around us. How many more can there be?"

Maldor makes a half smile and shakes his head. My eyes see a sturdy ax by a severed hand. I reach for it, but I jump away when the nearby hand grabs it and reattaches to a dead body. The fallen one rises again.

"Rakanishu!" cries the resurrected beast.

My sword swings for its face. The blade breaks in two as a splash of blood whips the air. Dead again, but not for long. A groan in the darkness reveals several shamans lurching around a bend in the caves. More of the dead rise again, as a streak of flame flies near me, scorching a black line across my cloak. With my broken blade I fend off as many as I can.

"Maldor! We need some magic, now!"

"I'm out of mana, we must retreat!" he shouts.

So we retreat deeper into the dark, away from the small horde behind us. Maldor's torch light grows dimmer the further we run on. Ahead of us, we see a long straight corridor.

"The fire will be going out soon," says Maldor, "But I think we can outrun them if we keep going straight ahead."

"We should be able to do it," I say, leaning left to avoid a fireball cast my way, "Our legs are longer."

With demonic speed, several of the creatures lunge at my back. One grabs hold of my cloak, dragging me down. The others pile on, weapons swatting and slamming down on me. I fall and feel fortunate. If their weapons were not so blunt and my armor not so sturdy, I would be dead by now. Shaking and rolling around the ground, I try to loosen the grip of my attackers. It is no use, several more join the fray. I catch sight of Maldor trying to kick them away, but it is no use, they will not let go. This must be the end of me.

In the blurred chaos, I hear someone shout out: "Cover your face, I'll try to save you!"

Something shrieks in my ear and the monsters begin to let go of me. Strange. My back feels very warm right now. I turn my head around. My cloak is on fire.

"Get back!" screams Maldor as he fends off the fallen ones with his shield and dagger. He rips the cloak off my back and throws it at a crowd of the demons.

"Are you insane?" I ask.

"I had no choice," replies Maldor, "Look behind you."

I turn around and see that the long cavern is filled with demons for as far as my eyes can see. Demons, all of the same size and repulsiveness, but in a variety of fiendish colors. I back away, knocking back any that approach. Several of the creatures, engulfed in flames, run past me. I look back to my companion, who, with his torch, is setting ablaze any who go toward him. Some of the beasts grab his torch away as they begin to surround him. I fight my way to his side.  
"You said you were out of mana, have you a mana potion?" I ask as I swing my broken blade at a procession of monsters crowding around us.

"No, but unlike some mages, I can slowly regenerate my magical power even while fighting. Sadly, it doesn't look like we have much time for that."

"Let me give you some time," I say as my burning cloak comes into view. Grabbing at the unburned portion, I throw the enflamed piece of fabric into a small crowd of the fallen ones. A few catch on fire and in their panic, run about, spreading the flames to others around them. The formation of creatures around us breaks down and the advance of the swarm slows, giving us the chance to run.

The long length of the rocky corridor dims the further we run. In their panic, none give chase. The echoes of shrieking monsters become quieter as the darkness blackens. Finally, we reach a dead end. With no light, we fumble around trying to make sense of the wall through the sense of touch alone. Something is not right with the hard, stony wall. It is cold like stone in some places and feels wooden in others. I knock on it, a hollow thump sound tells me it is wooden.

"This is a door, I feel the knob right here," says Maldor.

The wall moves forward with a creak. My hand keeps in contact with its hard surface as I step forward.

"So this must be a room," I say, putting my hand up into the air, looking for anything solid.

"Get inside. We can barricade ourselves behind the door."

"But we do not know what is here," I argue, "And that stench! Something smells foul here."

"A whole army is marching up behind us, this is our only chance. My instincts tell me this room is safe."

"Can your instincts see in the dark?"

"Don't argue with my instincts, 'sir-how-many-more-can-there-be?', just go inside!" insists Maldor.

In absolute darkness, we carefully make our way into the room. We find nothing on the ground to bump our toes. Fumbling our way in this complete absence of light, we find the door again. It is shut behind us and we lean against its wooden surface, exhausted.

"Finally. We're safe," sighs Maldor in relief. "Our luck must be getting better."

A thundering laugh echoes in the room.

"Was that you, sorcerer?"

"No, it wasn't. I was going to ask you the same question, warrior."

Suddenly the room is lit. Torches catch fire around us. My eyes wince at the sudden light, but as they adjust, they finally see the room we have entered. It is a massive chamber of stone with a ceiling reaching up to the height of a dozen houses, and walls stretching around a space the size of a small village. Looking down, I see bodies of decapitated warriors heaped in front of the walls. Hundreds of these bodies surround us, most of them are just skeletons in armor with all the flesh rotted away. Recent corpses, covered with flies and rot, surround the center of the room where an abomination stands staring at us.

Standing at the height of two men, it has a long lower body like an snake, but with many spider-like legs holding it above the ground. From its rear slithers a long tail tipped with a stinger. At its front are two massive blood stained claws and between them, is the upper portion of a man where the head should be. Behind the man, completely covering the back of the long body are the still-living heads of hundreds of men. They are stitched onto the creatures back, with the bottom of their necks attached to the monster's body. Their faces writhe in agony as creature's head- the man's head turns to face us. He smiles as he holds up a massive scythe, stained brown with blood.

The creature speaks with a voice deep like a bottomless pit: "That was me. I am called The Thousand Hero Slayer. Who might the two of you be?"


	3. Sneering At Fate's Fury

THE THOUSAND HERO SLAYER by Silvertide

Chapter Three: Sneering At Fate's Fury

Countless insectoid legs push forward the hideous, serpentine body covered with moaning heads. My eyes widen and my hand clenches my half-broken sword as the monstrosity lumbers toward us. Maldor and I stand firm, with our weapons aimed at its head. It stops right in front of us. My dismembered sword points nearly straight up, waiting for a good moment to strike. I almost swing my blade as it leans forward and speaks once more:

"Well?"

Maldor spits on its face, straight in the eyes. Shock fills its face, then anger. It lurches back and raises its scythe ready to strike. Maldor stands unafraid, saying:

"You may not know us, but I know what you are! Thule Silth, former priest of Rathma!. Thule Silth, killer of his own kin! Thule Silth, a traitor of humanity and a born monster masquerading as human! You are a beast better known as the butcher of a thousand heroes, but those you left behind remember your first name."

The thousand hero slayer laughs, "So my former comrades have sent a bounty hunter to kill me for my so called 'crimes'? How much did they pay you to perform this suicide mission?"

"No one is paying me anything. You were once one of us. Have you been so corrupted that you cannot recognize a former kinsmen?"

"Well it has been a long time since I have seen another necromancer- who still had his own body attached to his head!"

The monster flexes its snake-like body and turns it sideways to face us. Horrified, still breathing faces of many men stare back at us. A handful of white-haired heads stand out, staring at my companion with eyes full of fear. I look at Maldor, whose face is now distressed with rage.

"You will pay for what you have done. Your experiments with the dark arts will end now, betrayer!" Maldor waves his hand and Thule Silth is momentarily surrounded by a red aura.

The creature laughs. "Ha ha! A curse of 'Iron Maiden', if I even scratch either of you with my scythe, the curse might cut my head off. It will not save you, I have other means to add you to my collection!"

Before I could blink, Maldor tackles me to the ground. A wave of fireballs pass over our heads. Quickly spinning around, I hurl a clump of dirt into the monster's eyes. It curses and rubs its eyes furiously. My companion and I scurry away and hide behind a pile of corpses. For a moment, all is quiet. The silence breaks as rains of fire, cascades of ice and streaks of lightning fill the cavern around us. Shards of bone and rusted armor are thrown into the air around us.

"So what do your 'instincts' say we should do now, death mage?" I ask Maldor.

"Thule is using the the magics of those he has fused with his body. He will eventually run out of mana, but-"

"...but he has a thousand mages worth of mana, doesn't he? Perhaps we can find something here to use against him. Some of these corpses may hold weapons and spell tomes we could use against the monster."

"What weapon could defeat that? Had I known he had grown this big I would have brought an army! I never did bother to learn summoning necromancy, now that we need an army, now I wish I had..." says Maldor as he gingerly peeks out from behind the pile.

"An army? How will we have time to find one of those while dodging fireballs-"

Shrill cries echo in the chamber. We peek out from our hiding place. Some of the imps that came for us earlier spill out from the entry, charging at Thule Silth. They are shattered and split apart by waves of fire and ice before their blades and bludgeons can reach their mark. The behemoth closes the door and bars it shut with a slightly rusted, but sturdy halberd. A cacophony of shrieks erupts from behind the door as it shakes and shudders with hard knocks and banging sounds.

"You distract him, then I will get the door! There may be enough imps to kill Thule."

"Maldor, that sounds like a terrible plan!"

A fireball flies overhead. Then another one flies toward the opposite side of the room. Then a hail of fire peppers the room.

The thousand hero slayer stops his assault to assail us with words, "After I take your heads, I shall cleanse my catacombs of this imp infestation! You can have the pleasure of watching me, but only if I get your heads in one piece. Come to me now, little mortals!"

Maldor and shrink back to our hiding place. We grow so quiet I wonder if we remembered to breathe.

"I do not think I would survive being a distraction," I say grimly.

Thunder booms and plumes of smoke fill the top of the cavern as Thule Silth continues his bombardment. As the chamber shakes with his magic, he screams, "Come now! Come before I accidentally drop the ceiling on your heads. A crushed head cannot watch me kill the imps. The two of you do want to watch, don't you?"

A spell tome falls loose from a corpse next to Maldor.

I thumb through the fallen tome.

"This is a horadric spell tome! And I think I understand enough of the glyphs to use this!"

"You know how to read horadric mage glyphs? And here I thought you were a simple warrior," exclaimed Maldor.

"It is not uncommon for warriors of Westmarch to know at least a little. There are many old horadric spell scrolls in our local ruins, so it is practically expected to be able to use some of the more basic scrolls. In fact, looking for old scrolls and studying their secrets was an old hobby of mine."

"What does this spell tome do?"

"I think it's a spell for golem creation..."

"Well what are you waiting for? Cast it already, maybe we can send it as a distraction instead of you!"

I shoot a glare at Maldor and then set myself to deciphering the tome. Reading the first few glyphs is a struggle, but it strangely becomes easier with each deciphered glyph. Suddenly time seems to speed up and the glyphs begin to read themselves to me. The glyphs glow and then disappear from the pages as they enter my mind's comprehension. Page after page of glyphs disappear by themselves and yet I seem to understand it all just as fast as they fade from the pages.

"So there you are," booms a thunderous voice.

I look up to see the monster above me. I look to my side. Maldor is gone! I look down. The spell tome has disappeared! I look up again. Thule Silth slowly raises his scythe, chuckling maniacally. Sweat trickles down my brow. Never before in my life have I felt such dread.

Bright blue-white flashes of light explode at the corner of my eye. I turn to see Maldor firing spell generated shafts of bone straight at the beast's face. The shafts shatter on impact, making the monster lurch back. Maldor quickly runs behind a large pile of bodies as the creature retaliates with a wave of fireballs. I speed over to another pile of corpses not far from Maldor's.

"What happened, warrior? Where is that golem?"

"I don't know, the book disappeared after I finished reading it!"

"Stupid jack of all trades amateur magic user! That means you've memorized the spell! Those kind of horadric spell tomes need you to try casting the spell after reading them!"

"Oh."

I search my mind for the spell that has now engraved itself to my mind. Somehow I speak the words and make the right gestures. Out of the floor, a greyish thing shaped like a featureless man rises out of the floor. I point at the monster slowly lumbering toward us and the golem runs to fight it.

"Now when the golem begins exchanging blows we will make a run for it, warrior!"

Thule Silth swats the golem with one of its claws as if it were a fly. The golem is sent flying out of our sight.

"...well I suppose we could just run for the door on separate paths and hope one of us makes it," I suggest.

"I was going to suggest you try distracting Thule, but after seeing that I don't think that would have helped. On three?"

"...three!"

The two of us run for the door, weaving between the piles of skeletons and ducking under flying icicles and balls of fire. Rotting corpses wrapped in metal and burnt leather litter the way before us. Hundreds lie before me. All of them headless and abandoned. I wonder how many of them were captured in my sleep like I was. Escaping the small ones only to become one with that monstrosity. I nearly trip over a broken axe as I catch sight of the the door.

Then a scream echoes in the chamber.

Something heavy weighs me down as I cry out in pain. The walls yell back at me, with the same anguished pain. I am belly down on the ground. I turn my head and find the dead body Thule Silth threw at me as I ran. Hopefully Maldor made it even though I-

"I'm sorry, Sigmund..."

To my left I see Maldor similarly pinned, but with two armored corpses.

"Well, I didn't think it would work anyway," I say sadly.

Thud. Thud. Thud. The floor shudders as the monster slowly lumbers toward us. Its lengthy body is flexible, but slow to move because of its bulk. A satisfied grin wraps around its face.

"I could kill you where you both lie, but I would like to keep those heads in one piece. Maybe I will stitch your pet golem next to your heads after I finish it off," laughed Thule Silth.

Only now do I realize it. Between the sounds of the monster's massive legs are the sounds of smaller foot steps. Foot steps from the doorway. I turn my head looking to the entryway and just a few steps from the door is my golem! Its footsteps are labored and it drags one leg as it walks, but it lives!

It looks to me, as if for direction. The golem sees the monster behind me and begins to walk to me, but I point at the door and scream, "The door, get the door!"

The golem begins to attack the door. With every blow, the halberd that holds it closed bends ever so slightly. Thule Silth's smile melts away. It lumbers past us toward the door.

As countless giant legs pass us by, Maldor and I try to inch our ways from underneath the heavy corpses. Slowly but surely, we manage to break free.

"...can you walk? I think I was only bruised from that," Asks Maldor.

"Yes, but I think we should find a good hiding place and quickly, before-"

Hundreds of imps pour out from the door as the halberd holding the door shatters. My poor golem is ripped apart as the imps throw themselves at Thule Silth. The massive monster hurls waves of ice, fire and lightning as the unending sea of small creatures thrashes him. His scythe cuts down a great many of the small ones as their shaman leaders summon enchanted fireballs at the thing with many heads.

Maldor pulls out his dagger.

"You still have your mission."

"Yes," replies Maldor without turning around. "My curse of iron maiden weakens Thule with every imp he cuts down with his scythe, but the imps will not be strong enough to finish him. If they were, they would have killed him long ago. An unholy balance of power in these caves has allowed Thule and the imps to live here without completely destroying the other."

"...and now you hope to tilt that balance against Thule's favor."

"Yes, but I do not expect to survive what remains of the imps later. You should try to find a way out while you can."

"The only way out is through that door," I say as I pull my broken blade out from under the corpse that fell on me. "Let us go. To death or freedom. We have no other way."

"Very well."

Maldor peppers Thule Silth with a rain bone shards as I climb up a towering corpse pile near him. Imps of many colors break away from their assault on the monster to pierce Maldor with their spears, but he knocks them aside with his blade. Several of the large imps with staffs fling fire at me, but Thule's storm of ice and lightning flattens them. The giant beast has all of its attention on the army of imps around it, he does not see me making ready for my strike. At the top of the bony tower, I make my leap.

My edge of my blade, broken as it is, cleanly connects with Thule Silth. Blood gushes from his throat. It gargles some horrible sound before glaring at me. I run and look back behind me. Its glare at me breaks as it looks to Maldor's way with horror.

Maldor fires a well aimed bone spear at his head, knocking it off. It soundlessly rolls away from the imp army. Without its mastermind, the monstrous body's limps being to flail out of control. The many heads on its back cease moaning and begin screaming blood curdling cries. Its legs pull its body to move in more than one direction as its stinger and claws continue to kill imps without pause. The imps continue to attack the now headless monster of war.

I pick up Silth's head and hand it to Maldor, which he quietly slips into a sack.

"So any idea how we can get past that? I want to show my brothers that justice was done this day."

"Maybe if we tip toe very carefully?" I jokingly suggest as I lean on a pile of skeletons. A book falls out from the pile.

"...this is a spell tome for a town portal spell!" I exclaim as I thumb through the book.

"Well that is convenient!"

"Maybe, Maldor. Maybe not. I do not know which town is closest to this cave. What if it is one overrun with bandits or some other dangerous-"

We both look at the unending battle at the doorway. Maldor looks straight at me and nods. I nod back and begin to learn the spell.

A blue shimmering oval opens before me. It is a tear in time and space, yet it's edges are so clean and smooth. I hesitant before entering. What lies before me? What dangers could be behind this enchanted doorway? What if it is something worse than-

"What are you waiting for? Go! Go! Go! Screams Maldor as he shoves me into the town portal.

Mere moments later the taste of grass and mud fills my mouth. I get up and find myself standing in a grass field encircled by the hollow remains of old stony buildings. A clear night sky full of stars hangs above me. A forest in the distance lies behind us while a graveyard full of dilapidated tombstones is ahead of us.

"So. Where are we?" asks Maldor.

" I have never been here before, but I will ask directions when I get the chance."

A moan fills the air.

"That was not you, was it?" I ask.

"No."

From within the ruins, walking corpses stagger out. In the distance more figures shaped like men stagger toward us. All of them coming from the graveyard.

"You're a necromancer, right? How about you ask these fine undead for directions..."

"I think we should head to that forest. And fast."

"So they are saying we should go to the forest."

"No, I think they are hungry," says Maldor as he turns and runs to the forest.

I follow closely behind him.

At the edge of the woods, we hesitate. We catch our breaths silently as the undead march at us, without losing speed.

"What do your instincts tell us about these woods?"

"Nothing. But my nose tells me that it does not smell as bad as the corpse-filled room we went into earlier."

"My nose is saying the same, which is good enough for me," I say as I step into the woods. The necromancer follows behind me. He turns around to see if the undead are still following us. I do the same, and then I keeping going forward, with one hand lightly clutching the sword in my hilt.

THE END


End file.
